


Costume (An OT3 Interlude)

by supposed2bfunny



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: 2russdoc, M/M, OT3, brief mentions of an original character, let russel wear a skirt 2019, this can be read as stand-alone or as a scene from OT3, this is a russel hobbs GNC appreciation fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21633463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supposed2bfunny/pseuds/supposed2bfunny
Summary: Inspired by a prompt on Discord...Russel decides to dress up and show off for his boyfriends a bit. This is purely self-indulgent fluffy Russel Appreciation. Can be read as a stand-alone 2russdoc fic, or as a bonus scene between chapters of OT3.
Relationships: Murdoc Niccals/Stuart "2D" Pot, Russel Hobbs/Murdoc Niccals, Russel Hobbs/Stuart "2D" Pot
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	Costume (An OT3 Interlude)

**Author's Note:**

> A little 2russdoc to keep you all warm through the holiday season <3 There's a brief reference to a celebrity seamstress friend of Murdoc's (Scarlett) alluded to in my fic OT3. You don't need to read that fic though as the context isn't really necessary. Just know that she is a seamstress that exists who hooked Russel up with these sweet threads.
> 
> As ever, feedback is always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“Oi, come out already or I’ll use Dents here as a battering ram and knock the bloody door off its hinges!”

Despite his nerves, Russel felt himself smiling at Murdoc’s words. “In a minute,” he called, glancing one last time at his reflection in the mirror, letting the red satin robe slide off his shoulders slowly to reveal his outfit. “Be patient! This might be the craziest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Can’t be less crazy than agreeing to join the band of the bloke who kidnapped you from your uncle’s shop. And look how swimmingly that’s gone for you. Your impulsive moves are your best ones, Russ.”

“Hi, Russel, this is 2D,” the singer’s voice came from the hallway. “Um, just wanted to say that if you’re really too shy to come out, you don’t have to. Don’t let Murdoc make you feel pressured.”

2D’s anti-push was the final push he needed to feel his confidence swell, to nod to himself and confirm _yes, I seriously want to do this_. And with that, he smacked his lips one more time, relishing the way the gloss gleamed in the light, and opened the door of his walk-in closet, stepping out into his bedroom.

Murdoc and 2D both gasped, eyebrows taking off, racing for their respective hairlines.

“Oh, Russ,”

“You look,”

“Absolutely,”

“Positively,”

“Un-fucking-believably—”

“Unavoidably—”

“Adverbially,” Russel teased gently, gesturing for them to finish.

“Gorgeous,” they chorused.

And hell, was true, wasn’t it?

The outfit was worth several grand, and he knew he’d never looked better. The skirt was the first thing he’d chosen for himself: a Dolce and Gabbana calf-length tiered marvel made of alternating layers of satin and tulle, in a watercoloresque mania of soft and blushed pinks. The entire thing glimmered with rhinestones and golden accents, and a small train continued down the backs of his legs and to the floor, trailing behind him and continuing the pattern of gold-on-pink.

The top was a bit more conservative: a lacey spaghetti-strap shirt with ribbons running along the sides. Their dovewhite color was matched perfectly by the elbow-length lace gloves he wore with them.

Naturally, the entire piece was pulled together by his five-inch peony-pink heels.

He felt like a queen, or even a god or goddess. That was certainly how Murdoc and 2D were appraising him at least.

“Look at you! Was I right or was I right? Scarlett the Harlot strikes again! You could be on the cover of Vogue, Russel!”

“She really did a good job, Russ. Wow, that top is pretty. Can I touch the ribbons? They look so soft.”

“Go ahead,” Russel replied, instantly regretting it when the singer’s gangly fingers began to stroke the material. When had he last washed his hands? He took a quick breath, pushing the thought away. “Muds, I’ll give credit where credit is due. I can’t ever thank you enough for hooking me up with Scarlett. The woman clearly has a gift for fashion.”

“Got that right. Not that you don’t look nice in those True Religions you fancy, but this,” he whistled, “mate, this is another level. You could be the centerpiece of the Met Gala.”

“Yeah! Or like, one of those fancy fashion events lots of celebrities go to where they get all dressed up!”

“Aw, look at that, you’re so bloody stunning you’ve singed away the last few brain cells the kid had left in his noggin,” Murdoc knocked the side of 2D’s head affectionately and urged his huge hands away from the delicate material of Russel’s blouse. “Not a bad idea, that. Do you want to have a little fashion show? We could post it to the website! That arse Albarn keeps trying to make me take down the pin-up gallery of myself I’ve posted. I’ve already had to re-upload my photos like three times. My artistic visions are never appreciated!”

“Hell no,” Russel snapped. “I’m only comfortable showing off like this to you two. No one else.”

“I thought the whole point of this was getting you to feel more confident embracing these interests of yours,” 2D said gently.

“I thought the whole point of introducing him to Scar was getting him into some kinky panties. Proper communication breakdown.”

Russel just smiled and shook his head. It didn’t matter what he’d been after when he’d first sat down with Murdoc’s ‘celebrity seamstress’ friend Scarlett. What had been important to him then had simply been finding an outfit that he could show off in, feel beautiful in. Something feminine that he could embrace. And she’d gone above and beyond advising him and ultimately assembling his over-the-top costume. “It doesn’t matter. If you both like it, that’s what counts. Should I do a little runway walk for you?”

With that, he strode across the room, placing one heeled foot delicately in front of the other and swinging his hips a bit as he walked. He loved the bounce of the skirt, its playful flowiness. And the sound of the train rustling behind him was divine. Russel had known all sorts of pleasures: he could still remember the puff of his first cigar after high school graduation, perched on the trunk of his dad’s car, pretending that he was ready to be a man. With Gorillaz fame (and bank account) taking off, he’d been able to indulge in luxury fabrics and clothing. He knew well the divinity of good music, had heard old blues renditions in smoky bars that rendered him wet-eyed, had felt his heart race with the electricity of ‘M1A1’ when the band started up concerts for thousands of screaming fans. He’d been around the world, tasted the flesh of animals he’d never heard of, savored stews that simmered for days on end before the hot herbed broth passed his lips. Russel Hobbs was not a stranger to sensual joys.

This was different. This was divinity. To stand there, unapologetically feminine, with both of his lovers looking at him like he belonged up amidst the stars. He could get used to this.

“I can’t believe we didn’t get you outfitted sooner,” 2D said, shaking his head in wonder. “You look so good. Especially with that big ol’ smile, Russ. You look more confident than I’ve ever seen you look!”

“I feel good,” he admitted. “Something about being able to dress like this sometimes, pop on a little lipgloss, it feels… _right_.”

“As often as you like, mate,” Murdoc replied. It never ceased to reassure Russel, how open Murdoc was to gender nonconformity despite his upbringing and family history of cruelty. “I’ll fill your closet with all the dresses and skivvies your heart desires.”

“Nah, this has got to be for special occasions,” he replied. “That’s what makes it feel so nice, I think. Besides, was there really any occasion for this?”

“We were starting to fall for you,” 2D said earnestly, “isn’t that reason enough to celebrate?”

Russel walked back across the room, still reveling at the ease with which he could make his hips sway. “Aw, Dee,” he touched the man’s cheek. “C’mere, let me give you a kiss for that.”

“You’re going to get lipstick on my face,” 2D complained, even as he leaned down—much less leaning than he usually had to do—and he complied despite his half-hearted protest, smiling even as his lips blushed with poppytinted gloss. “It feels like honey.”

“Don’t leave me out of the fun,” Murdoc groused, pushing his way between them to get some attention as well.

“D’you think Noodle would want to see your outfit?” 2D asked as Murdoc made no move to pull back from kissing Russel. “I mean, she doesn’t need to know Scarlett mostly sells lingerie. Unless, maybe we can use that to segue into talking about that kind of stuff since Noodle’s not a little girl anymore. Do either of you know if she…” he gestured to his chest awkwardly, miming breasts. “Does she wear…?”

“A bra? Duh, she’s been wearing one for well over a year, Dee, but way to notice.”

“Well it’s not like I’m looking, okay?!”

“Should we give the little rugrat a pep talk then? Rather, a ‘ _prep_ -talk?’”

“God no,” Russel groaned. “And anyway, we’re not using my outfit to ease into some awkward conversation like that, hell no. Not the intended purpose at all, you clowns.”

“But do you want to at least show off to her?” the singer pressed.

He paused to consider. “I mean…I guess that couldn’t hurt, right?” He wasn’t sure how much a broody teenager would really care for his designer clothes, but he’d always wanted to instill a sense of openness to gender non-conformity in Noodle, and anyway, he was feeling cute, and since posting pictures on their website or going out in public were both out of the question, and least showing off for all of Kong’s residents would give him a chance to felt seen and appreciated. “I always did want her to understand that you can wear whatever you want regardless of how you identify. That’s why I used to dress up in that moo-moo when she used to have tea parties.”

“Yeah, she used to invite me to tea parties too, and I never felt pressured to dress up for ‘em,” Murdoc intoned dryly. “Pretty sure you had ulterior motives there, Russ. Anyway, doesn’t matter. Let’s make this a proper show, hm? Give me ten minutes to find our little poppet and prep the living room for runway revelry. You two sit tight. Try not to get too frisky without me.”

He looked Russel over head to toe one last time, gave the single most salacious wink the drummer had ever seen, then took off, rubbing his hands together with glee. When Murdoc had a vision, there was very little that could deter him. That left Russel to chuckle and sit down on the foot of his bed, smoothing his skirt and fidgeting with nervous energy.

“He said not to get too frisky, but that’s hard when you look so pretty,” 2D admitted quietly, sitting beside Russel and running a finger up and down the soft material of his gloves. “It probably sounds really dumb or whatever, but I think that you’ve really blossomed recently, Russel. Not that me’n’Murdoc deserve credit for any of it, just uh, after we reunited, I didn’t know if you’d ever get over Del. Thought that your whole image might just be the ‘haunted drummer who lost his friend and mourns’ type thing.”

“Yeah, that was my shtick for a while, I guess. Morbid shit, right? Not really the dynamic edge Gorillaz needed to polish this album.”

“You had every right to mourn and be depressed!” he said, “I’m not trying to say you shouldn’t have. Just…seeing you come back to life…it’s like, we lost Del, but we gained more of you than I think we knew we could have. You’re not the spooky young lad Muds kidnapped from Big Rick’s Record Shop. You’re…” his dark eyes flitted over Russel’s outfit. “You’re complex. Spirited even without the spirits. Handsome and rather beautiful and quite wonderful.”

“You seem to have an easier time saying nice things to me when I’m dressed up fancy for you.”

“Feels a bit like acting, I guess, dunnit? Oh! But like, not like these words are just me acting, they’re really real—”

“Yeah, Dee,” he leaned in, let his lips haunt the sharp curve of 2D’s cheekbone. “I know. I understand.”

Completely ignoring what Murdoc had just asked of them, they let themselves slot together, kissing and touching softly as the minutes ticked by. Eventually, Murdoc made his way back, barging in without bothering to knock and complaining when he found them wrapped around each other.

He was willing to let it slide, however, as he’d situated Noodle in the living room, eager to see Russel’s new costume.

“Good thing I didn’t have her in tow when I came in, huh?” Murdoc taunted as he led them down the hallway. “Maybe lock the door before you start snogging like randy teens?”

“Couldn’t help myself,” 2D whined even as the bassist haw-hawed at their embarrassment.

“What is this?” Russel asked, pointing down at a series of towels leading down the hallway into the living room. “Did you spill something, old man?”

“Course not! I said ‘runway’ and I meant it! Turns out we didn’t have as many red towels and rugs around the place as I thought we did, so had to make due with a few extras. Some of these towels are the ones Dents mum sent him last Christmas—”

“Murdoc! Ask before you put my nice towels on the floor, you tosser—”

“I even sacrificed a few red scarves I stole from Hugh’s mansion back in the day,” Murdoc continued, ignoring the singer’s outburst and making Russel wonder what Murdoc hadn’t stolen from the Playboy Mansion. It was a topic that would require further investigation somewhere down the line.

“I can’t believe you made me a red—and other colored—carpet to walk down,” he said with a fond smile. “Thank you. You treat me like a king.”

Murdoc paused to appraise where his handiwork trailed down to the edge of the hall. Just beyond the doorway, Noodle sat waiting. The bassist lowered his voice and shrugged. “Yeah well, you are, you daft yankee.”

Before Russel could thank him, he’d grabbed 2D by the wrist and pulled him down the hall. “Okay, come in when I announce you, mate, got it? Noods, you ready?”

“Yes! Russel, I cannot wait to see you!” Noodle’s voice carried, loud and excited down the hallway. For her to be so hyped up, Russel knew already that he would find her with sugary drink in hand. Bribery from Murdoc, no doubt.

Nonetheless, he began his confident strut down the hall, heeled feet carrying him first over cream and blue towels, then over a red rug, a red pillowcase, and a red scarf. Murdoc’s hand-made red carpet. Just for him.

“Now announcing the starlet of today’s event! And subsequently the only star, but we’re not getting hung up on that. From rags to riches, an American musician who I once spotted wearing an Echo Unlimited shirt un-ironically—”

“Those used to be fashionable in New York!” Russel called loudly.

“Silence, peanut gallery! Where was I? Oh yeah, the man who owns over thirty pairs of sneakers but’ll wear the same pair every day for a month. Today he’s sporting some designer names that likely sound like those Romanian triplets I met once in L.A. who could do amazing things with their pinky fingers—”

“Murdoc please,” 2D and Noodle both groaned.

“Dressed to the nines for no reason other than to celebrate the imminent success of Gorillaz’ upcoming second album and the folks responsible for it, the one, the only, bass-drum battering, send-you-heart-pattering _Russeeeel Hooobbs_!”

He put a little extra sway in his hips and crossed the threshold into the living room. Although 2D and Murdoc had already seen him, they both clapped and whooped like it was their first time taking in his outfit. Noodle sat between them, soda bottle in her lap (of course), bangs pushed out of her eyes so she could see him clearly. Her eyes lit up as he walked through the room posing dramatically for them.

She looked delighted.

 _This is it_ , Russel thought, heart swelling. _This is what happiness feels like_.


End file.
